ERROR 651
by RascalKat
Summary: I knew I'd end up fixing a lot of things in my lifetime. I even anticipated that someday, I would have to figure out how to put myself back together. I just never expected it to be this hard. (Donatello is captured by an unknown entity for a mental experiment. 2003 version!) **Discontinued, please see author's note**
1. Chapter 1:

**ERROR 651**

 **Summary:** I knew I'd end up fixing a lot of things in my lifetime. I even anticipated that someday, I would have to figure out how to put _myself_ back together. I just never expected it to be this hard.

 _ **A/N:**_ _This is a 2003 fic, although I've only seen seasons 1-3 ish... So... Yeah... This probably won't be your usual "turtle gets captured" fics, as I feel there's something a bit different about this one. Most notably that I don't currently plan on having very much physical torture. It will be more... "torture" of the mental variety. ;)_

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

Cement. When he came to, he was lying on cement, the cold seeping into his skin.

He just lay there for a moment, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. They kept slipping away from him, reminding him of the time Raph had broken his ant farm all those years ago. He had tried to scoop the ants up, but they kept escaping, crawling over his fingers and spilling back onto the floor.

Speaking of Raph, where the shell was he? Where were _any_ of his brothers for that matter? He struggled to open his eyes more than halfway, moving as little as possible in case there was still danger around. It didn't do much good, the world around him remaining as black as tar. There was something covering his eyes, and he figured it was his mask, turned and rewrapped so tightly it no longer felt natural.

The feeling in his hands started to come back, and he realized that they had been tied up behind his back as well. A slight tug on one arm revealed how immobile he truly was, even without the restraints. His muscles hardly responded at all. Drugged. He'd definitely been drugged, although he couldn't really tell what the chemical had been. He didn't think he'd be able to roll over properly right now, even to save his life. Nothing to do now but wait, then...

He slowed and deepened his breathing in an effort to keep calm, as well as make sure that whoever had captured him didn't realize he was awake yet. Shutting his eyes to the dark, he tilted his head ever so slightly and listened. There was a mechanical humming above him and off to his left, echoing closely from his right and making the room sound small. A cell, then. They had put him in a cell.

A minute passed, then another five, and nothing changed. Time stretched on with nothing to mark its passage but the low drone of what he could only assume was the air vent. Twenty more seconds. Nothing. He lay there for as long as he could stand it, almost holding his breath as he waited for something, _anything_ , to happen. Panic flickered through his lungs and into his throat, cutting off what little air he was taking in, at least until he was able to grab ahold of himself again. Nothing was happening; what if nothing _ever_ happened? But of course not, his captors would come for him soon, do something with him. He supposed he should relish the time he had now. Maybe try to remember how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place...

He'd been on patrol, right? No, that wasn't it... The memory of a path unfolded in his mind, followed by the scent of flowers that he hadn't cared to look up the names of. Leaves skittered along the ground, the clouds shifting almost ominously overhead. He'd gone for a walk in Central Park, in one of the places he knew would be deserted. He... He had been alone.

Don slowly released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His family hadn't been captured with him, as far as he knew. They were still out there, still free. They still had a chance, and that meant that _he_ still had a chance. He had to focus on that, no matter what these people had planned for him. He needed to be there for his brothers when they needed him, and he couldn't do that if he gave up.

A door behind him creaked open, bringing in a wave of sterilized air and the sounds of carts rolling along corridors, people speaking lowly to each other and... was that screaming? He tore his attention away from the hall beyond his cell and focused on the two people who had just stepped in, a cart pulled behind them. It also sounded like they were dragging something else in...

The door slammed shut.

He kept his muscles slack and his breathing as deep and slow as he could stand, waiting. He could feel his mind begin to slip into its meditation state out of habit, but he held his consciousness just above the surface.

"Geez, where the Hell did they find _this_ one? I know Brandon said it wasn't normal, but this thing is just _freaky_ lookin'." A male voice remarked, nearly crushing his captive's foot to check if he was awake. Don reigned in his body's reaction to the stimulus, just barely.

A slightly higher, raspier voice responded. "Good thing we've got that Tricerawhatsit tech, or I don't think the Docs would able to hold it still. Just look at its muscles... Huh... Ya think that shell could stop a bullet?"

He could feel something brush over his carapace and he struggled to hold back a shiver.

"Doubt it." The lower voice replied. "The shells are made of bone, not Kevlar. And it's not like it matters, they're using it for mental experiments, not physical ones."

"Aw, come on, it's like buying a cheetah and testing its ability to fly! What the heck are those idiots thinking?"

 _Slap_

"More than you, dumbass. You didn't even read the file. This thing's easily ten times smarter than you are, and from the initial scans, the higher ups think its brain is built just like a human's."

"You really are mad about not getting that promotion, aren't ya?"

"Shut up, Garrison."

There was near silence for a second or two, followed by shuffling.

Cold fingers touched the back of his head, his mask loosening before falling off completely.

A hand felt along the top of his spine, turning his head down, searching for something. He didn't have a chance to make a move before the same hand plunged a needle into the back of his neck and cool liquid washed into his system. His body spasmed, and a gasp wrenched it's way down his throat. His eyes opened halfway, but both his sight and mind were already lost to him, the darkness giving way to an even murkier oblivion.

* * *

Raphael walked into the living room, twirling his sai in his hands. "Donnie! Hel-looo! Brainiac, where'd ya run off too?!" He had already checked his younger brother's room only to find it empty, and a quick glance at the lab had revealed that no one was in there either. It was almost 3 am, or what would have been about 3 in the afternoon for the other occupants of New York City, and that meant that Mikey was going to start dinner soon. They needed to get started on the bike if they wanted to get anything done before dinner and movie night.

He poked his head into the dojo. "Leo, you seen Don? He shoulda come up to the warehouse by now!"

Leo flinched, pulled from his meditation by the shout. "Nope, haven't seen him. Have you checked the lab?"

"No, I ain't checked the lab, I'm too dumb to think of that. No dip, Sherlock, of course I checked the lab. He ain't in his room, either."

Leo stretched his back, then pulled himself out of his lotus position. "Easy, hothead, just wondering. Did you call his shell-cell?" His brother's mouth opened in a silent "Oh", and it was all Leo could do to keep from smirking as Raph tucked a sai into his belt before pulling his cell out.

"Come on, Donnie, pick up." He twirled the other sai frenetically as he waited, only for the call to go straight to voicemail. He dialed the same number again, and walked into to the kitchen, Leo following behind. Mike had just put a tray in the oven and was pulling off his oven mitts.

"Right to voicemail again," Raph scoffed. "Mikey, you got a clue where Don went? He was supposed to help me out with the shell-cycle, but I can't find him, and he's not answering his phone."

"Nope. I haven't seen him since... Wait, I thought he said he was going to Central Park for a walk or something!"

"He went to Central Park alone?" Leo asked.

"Well, since you're both standing here instead of in Central Park, and sensei's meditating... Yeah, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say he went alone."

Leo's eyebrows narrowed. "I told him no more solo trips! There are too many enemies out there right now for us to be wandering around the city without a partner. Why didn't you stop him!?"

Mikey took a step back and held his hands up. "Hey, don't blame it on me, he said he was gonna ask one of you guys to go with him!"

"He's not answering his phone, Mikey, he could be dead for all we know!" Raph shouted.

"Raph, let it go, it's not his fault, it's Don's." Leo said, trying to quell his brother's anger while managing his own frustration. Leo sighed, rubbing one hand down his face. "For now, all we can do is try to find him. Let's go," he said as he turned around and headed for the door.

Mikey reached for the dial on the oven and turned it off before grabbing his nunchuks off the counter. He ran to catch up with his brothers, praying that it was just the shell-cell that was dead.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Thanks for reading! Be sure to tell me what you think, I greatly appreciate reviews!_


	2. Chapter 2:

_**A/N:** Thank you for the feedback from the first chapter! I've made my decision on how much angst the story will include. Suffice to say that I picked a middle ground between options A and B. I hope you'll like what I have in mind!_

 _Also, I'm currently looking for a beta reader, so if any of you are good at picking out plot holes, grammar issues, or places where the story just drags in general, please send me a PM!_

 **Chapter 2**

* * *

The first thing he knew was the ache in his head, the dry fuzziness that felt like three tons of cotton balls had been shoved into his skull.

Donnie opened his eyes a slit only to be met with a searing light.

"Keep your eyes open, hon, come on," a mellow voice hummed. It was a female voice, not familiar at all.

'Who... where...' he wondered, trying not to wince when the light managed to flicker through his squinted eyes once more.

"There we go, try to keep 'em open. It might take a bit, but your eyes should adjust," the voice repeated, and he tried to follow the orders, but his eyes kept clamping shut. After what seemed like an eternity, his eyes did adjust, but everything around him was blurry. Try as he might, he couldn't keep himself from going cross eyed.

"There we go! Everything will be just fine, I've got the doctor right here with me." Everything seemed to focus again in an instant, even though he still couldn't keep both eyes trained on the same thing at once, but it was enough. Enough to jump-start every fiber in his body with a surge of adrenaline he hadn't known since the first day he'd faced the Foot.

There was a nurse in front of him, or what he assumed to be a nurse, with a 'doctor' just behind her. Both were wearing lab coats, and the scent of antiseptic around him was overpowering. Donnie backpedaled even while laying down, nearly falling out of the hospital bed in his mad scramble to just get _away._ He pushed his shell up against the wall in an effort to get the best view of the room as well as any escape routes. The only one was the doorway behind both of his captors.

"Touch me and you won't get your hand back," he snarled, channeling Raph as well as he could. He blinked hard again, trying to get his eyes to stop sliding lazily downwards.

"We aren't going to hurt you, just _calm down_ ," the nurse said, moving slowly around the bed to get closer to him. "You're still disoriented from the surgery, just take it down a few notches, okay?"

Donnie didn't let his guard down, although his heart rate spiked at the word 'surgery'. " _Aren't_ trying to hurt me? You _kidnapped_ me! What the shell did you _do_ to me?!"

The nurse looked, wide eyed, over at the doctor, who also looked fairly stunned. "He still remembers. How can he still remember?!" she demanded.

"This hasn't happened before," he said, punching one of the buttons in a remote Donatello hadn't noticed until now. "I don't understand. The treatment should have worked!"

Donnie gulped, realizing that reinforcements were probably on their way. He took another step back, his shell scraping along the wall and halting his progress. At the same time, whatever force had been holding him upright suddenly let go, and he felt his knees weaken and quit, dropping him unceremoniously on the tile floor.

'No, no! I have to get out of here!' he panicked, but his limbs wouldn't cooperate, and his pounding heartbeat only magnified his headache. Hands clenched, he tried to push himself up again, but it was as if the floor had been coated in butter.

Footsteps stormed through the halls outside the room, reminding him of the ominous thunder that always came before the kind of storm that could flood the sewers. Thirty seconds passed in the blink of an eye and, somehow, he was being held down again, hands and feet restrained with glowing blue bands.

Two guards lifted him back onto the hospital bed none too gently, and it wasn't long before the room was entirely deserted, save one guard standing by the door. He tried glaring at the guard, but his gaze slid cross eyed, and he looked away out of sudden embarrassment.

'This is so messed up,' he thought to himself. 'I just hope the guys will be able to find me if I can't get out of here on my own.' His brothers... Had they been taken too? For some reason, he felt like the answer was no, but he couldn't pinpoint a rational reason why.

Donnie closed his eyes to the ridiculously bright light filling the room and focused on listening. He wasn't all that surprised to find that he could faintly make out the conversation between the doctor and the nurse out in the hallway.

"Sampson doesn't make mistakes like this. If it didn't work the first time, it won't work at all."

"But the chemical process could still be successful, right?" the nurse asked.

"It doesn't matter. He's useless if his mind isn't wiped. We would be introducing too many variables."

There was silence for a few moments, and Don strained to hear, hoping they hadn't moved further down the corridor.

"Perhaps more variables are precisely what we need." another male voice said. "A week ago you were talking about a field test, Doctor Bennet. You couldn't find a legally safer field test than the one right in front of you." The voice hardened at the end of the sentence, leading Don to believe that he was listening to one of 'Doctor Bennet's' higher ups. More silence. It was the kind of silence that signaled the end of a conversation, and though he tried to keep listening, he could hear nothing more.

He sighed, staring down at his shackled wrists. So he was an experiment. He was actually somewhat surprised that they weren't trying to cut him open this time. Normally his and his brothers' physiology was what the scientists wanted to study, but this time was different. If the conversation he had overheard was enough to go in, they wanted to study his brain.

It was truly ironic, though, that _he_ of all turtles had been picked up for whatever experiment they had in mind. Donnie had spent most of his life as a scientist himself, or as close as he could get with only the internet and a few rotting textbooks to guide him. Almost laughable, really. Almost. But surely his brothers would come to get him, surely he wouldn't have to actually go _through_ with this? Just like it always happened in Mikey's cartoons, the character who got captured by the bad guys would be safe and sound at home by the end of the day, the adventure fitting neatly into a 22 minute episode, 30 minutes if you counted commercials.

Unless, of course, this was one of those season finales that lasted _two_ episodes.

He scoffed. This was real life. Real life was not a weekly cartoon, no matter how badly he wished it was, no matter how much their lives usually seemed like it.

Shaking his head, Donnie stared at the thin hospital sheets that he was laying on, analyzing the weave of the material and trying to make himself believe once and for all that this was real. He sighed, realizing that he was already going crazy without his brothers. Perhaps the "surgery" the scientists had been referring to really _had_ done a number on his brain.

Donnie looked back at the restraints keeping him still, seeming to notice for the first time that these cuffs had most definitely _not_ been created on Earth. These humans had Triceraton technology, and there was no telling what _other_ devices these people had at their disposal.

Don shuddered, trying not to recall the moment that damned helmet had been forced onto his head. It didn't work, of course. The memories kept seeping in of their own accord through the cracks in his mental walls.

The bundle of nerves that spread through his brain had been lit on fire again and again, yanked at, extruded for the thousandth time, when he finally realized that the information he'd been trying to keep secret was about to become public knowledge. Well, that and he just couldn't _breathe_ anymore, the pain burning up the oxygen in his lungs before his body could use it.

He had choked out his Master's name, begging for the release, and just like that, it was gone, but that didn't mean the aftershocks hadn't been just as damaging. That part had gone on for weeks after his brothers had rescued him, even resulting in a nosebleed once or twice, but he was okay now. He would never be able to get rid of the memory of those creatures sifting through his thoughts with their repulsive machine, leaving mental silt everywhere it went, but he had learned to get over it.

The door opened, and in walked another 'doctor' carrying some kind of technological headband. Donnie sucked in a breath of air, praying that he would be able to get over _this_ experiment as well.

* * *

"He ain't here, Leo!" Raph called back to his brothers, scuffing his foot on a rock.

"This is where the last ping from his shell-cell came through; he has to be here somewhere!" Leo replied. He refused to give up on his brother. Don had been stolen from them once already, and although the damage had been comparatively minimal, there had still been damage. He didn't even want to think about what the consequences might be if their genius brother had been taken on his own _again_.

"We've looked, Leo, there's no sign of him!" Raph growled. If Don really was gone, they needed to _move_ , as in _right now,_ or they could kiss their brother goodbye. He twirled his sai in his hands, wishing he had some thug to beat up right about now. "I'll bet you a year of chores it was that lowlife _Bishop_."

"We need a plan first, Raph, and right now we have nothing to go on, so quit saying he isn't here and _look_ a _gain_." he ground out.

By that point, Mikey was a nervous wreck, darting around Central Park like a mother who couldn't find her child. They had done a fairly thorough scan of just about everything but the Northern edge of the park where the woods were thick, only a small path trailing through it, but they were losing time. Another twenty minutes passed, and they were no closer to figuring out what had happened.

"It's almost 4:30, we need to head back soon if we don't want to be spotted." Leo's voice was resigned. If they hadn't found any trace of him by now, they probably weren't going to find anything at all. He only prayed that Don had just chosen to go to the junkyard for a piece of equipment and was now at home in bed right now, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that wasn't the case.

"We can't just leave!" Their youngest brother hadn't said a word since they left the lair, and the sharpness of his tone was enough to startle anyone.

"Mikey, we're useless if we get caught, you know that."

Raph took a deep sigh, gripping his weapons tightly. "I hate to say it, but Leo's right. We ain't found anything, and I doubt we will." He turned to leave mumbling something that sounded like Bishop.

Mikey let his shoulders droop, his fear for his brother truly beginning to consume him. He took a step toward his older brother to beg for five more minutes and felt something give way under his foot.

"Hold up guys, I stepped on something." The object turned out to be some kind of syringe, broken, and with feathers on the end. "This doesn't look like a clue, does it?" he asked, the hope rising in his voice as Leo turned around to see it.

"Tranq dart. Who knows, it might just be a stray dart from some bear that they had to take back to the wild… But you never know. Look around, see if there's anything more under the leaves."

Another twenty minutes passed, and their shaky lead seemed to have been a dud after all. Leo was just about to open his mouth to call off the search when Raph suddenly let out a string of curses from his place on the ground in front of an oak tree. His red-masked brother tilted his head down and held something up. In the murky pre-dawn light, Mikey and Leo could just barely make out the remains of Don's shell-cell.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Once again, thank you so much for reading! I'm going to mention once more that this story is in need of a beta reader, someone to look for grammar issues as well as plot holes or places where the story drags. If you're interested, send me a PM!_

 _Oh, and if you have thoughts on where you think the story is going, I always love to hear them! Keeps me from getting too predictable, ya know? :D_

 _Love you guys!_


	3. Chapter 3:

**A/N:** _I don't feel the most confident about this chapter. It feels a little exposition-y to me, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!_

 _Also, I would like to address the fact that Chapter 2 got no reviews... I'm fine with not getting tons of reviews, so long as people keep reading. I know most people don't have the time or words to review every chapter, heck, I usually only review three or four times per story unless it's like REALLY REALLY GOOD and I actually have something to say. So I get it, I'm not looking for tons of reviews. But it does help me write faster if I know there's someone waiting for it, and it does get me more excited to post a chapter! Was there something wrong with the chapter? Just not what you were expecting? Should I change the summary to something closer to what actually is going on in the story?_

 _I never replied to the anonymous review from Chapter 1, and I try to do that, so I guess I'll do that now :)_

 **Anon Reviews:**

 _Heather:_

 _"Super nice first chapter! I love 2003 turtles because they don't make Mikey act like a moron. I guess if I had to choose an option...I probably go with option B. BUT! If you decide to do option A I'm totally cool with it! :-)"_

-Oh my gosh, I KNOW. 2003 Mikey is my favorite Mikey, because he's actually really witty and he's got all of the fun cultural references XD And you can see from my note in Chapter 2 that I chose the middle ground (as I accidentally described Option A as much more tame than I intended) but I really hope you enjoy what I've got in mind! Thank you so much for the review!-

 _Hope you enjoy the chapter guys!_

 **Chapter 3:**

* * *

"All r-… the laught-… …strong reacti-… ... -ry shame ne…"

 _Donnie couldn't help but try to pull himself back into his shell, although he knew it wouldn't work. They were all staring at him, the human faces melding into a wall of ghouls that scoffed and mocked at how ugly, how_ unnatural _he was. They wouldn't stop laughing, and there was nowhere to hide. His little box was made entirely of thick wire, and no matter which way he turned, another gruesome smile awaited. His face had already been stained with tears and he could only think about how much he just wanted to go_ home _._

 _Someone jabbed something into the cage, poking him in the back, and he stumbled forward, plowing into the ground when he lost his footing. The laughter only got louder and he shut his eyes, hiding his face behind small, three-fingered hands. They had already taken his bandana; he didn't understand what more they wanted from him! What did they_ want _?_

"erfect-… … quite a solid mem-… …anxi… …ment… ….work perfectly… …don- …now."

 _"Daddy!" he choked out, but he knew none of these people understood him when he could hardly understand himself. His father wasn't there to hear him anyway. He couldn't breathe anymore, sobs shaking his chest interspersed with hiccups. The cage around him started spinning and his breath only got faster, everything starting to go grey around the edges. The last thing he remembered was the creak of the hinges on the top of his cage, followed by the smell of his father's fur._

"Daddy? Hmm… interest-…"

* * *

Rule Number One: Don't mention where you came from. As far as you know, you have always lived here in safety as opposed to out in the world where you would not be accepted. Act like you like it here.

Rule Number Two: Do not attack or resist the guards, scientists, or teachers. Do as you are told.

Rule Number Three: Don't say a word about being an experiment. Don't tell the others that _they_ are experiments.

Rule Number Four: Do not attempt to escape. Do not encourage others to attempt to escape.

Rule Number Five: Don't make cultural references, and don't tell the others about the outside world.

Rule Number Six: You are being monitored constantly. If you fail to comply with rules one through five, you will be terminated. Your family will be hunted down and executed.

* * *

Six rules. He could remember six rules, and most of them were fairly self-explanatory. Don kept running, his bare feet hitting the treadmill in an almost hypnotizing rhythm. He'd woken up that morning in what looked more like a dorm room than a cell, his feet shackled together. His hands had been free, though, and he had been in a bed, an actual bed; not the floor, and not a medical cot.

The door opened not five seconds after he woke up, and one of the head scientists, Dr. Kochanski, had informed him of the rules. He didn't know if they could really track down his family, but these people knew he had lived in the sewers of New York City. Whether they were bluffing or not, they could probably find his family anyway. He had no way out. His first sign of struggle when they took the cuffs off his ankles and brought him to the training room had been met with some kind of neural electrical punishment, and he was _not_ in the mood to experience that again, not when any of the staff could activate it at will with a device wrapped around their wrist. The shockwave had hit the back of his skull with the force of a baseball bat, spreading down his spine. The neurons in his brains started firing at random intervals like some sort of fireworks finale gone wrong. He couldn't move, could hardly breathe, and when the tremors finally started to wane, he realized he'd collapsed on the spot, his muscles still tingling. When he felt around for the device that had just done… whatever that was… he found nothing. But that didn't mean there _truly was_ nothing there. They'd done some kind of surgery on his head, and he was beginning to think he knew what that surgery was.

When they demanded his name, he didn't hesitate. He didn't understand why they would want that information: it wasn't in any government records, nothing to connect him to anything. Even his own encrypted computer records held none of his family's personal information. So even though there was a part of him warning that they would someday use it against him he let them have his name. Part of it, anyway. Just Don.

They were getting shock happy by the time they got to the training room, every little mistake a reason to jolt him again. So he did what they said. He got on the treadmill and ran. He started out running at about five miles per hour. When they threatened another shock if he didn't speed up, he quickened his stride to about six, then seven. He was likely going to impress them with his inhuman stamina, and part of him was excited for that, but the other part was disgusted that he was following their orders, nervous that they might someday use the data they were gathering on him against his family. But he kept running.

When his lungs started to ache for air, he pushed the pain aside and tried to think of something else, something he really should have been thinking about before now: how to escape. Sure, these people had their wristbands to control him with the threat of another shock, but if he could just figure out a way to get one of them alone and then… He supposed the only way would be to either short-circuit the wristbands or just take them away somehow. He could always break their thumbs and pull the bands off, but that would probably result in screaming and more people, therefore more wristbands to get rid of before they were used against him…

Don gulped more air down, trying to even out both his pace and his breath. The pain seemed to go away for a moment or two as he got his second wind, and he continued trying to figure a way out of this mess he'd gotten himself into.

So right now, the plan was to knock them out if he ever got left alone with one of them, and then he'd take the wristband. The problem was he had no idea what he'd do afterward. He could take the person hostage of course, but then he'd have to fake his willingness to kill whatever poor sap he got his hands on. He gritted his teeth and swallowed thickly. He didn't know if he'd be able to do it, and he wouldn't know if they would be able to call his bluff until he was actually _in_ that situation.

Too many variables. There were _always_ too many variables when it came to people and their reactions, which is why he much preferred machines. There was nothing soft about the science of math and mechanics; it was a beautiful combination of cold hard reality and unshakable facts. For now, he would have to settle for observation, always the safest course of action when one didn't know what they were dealing with. He glanced around the room at the scientists and guards, analyzing the layout and cataloguing the social data for later use, every facial tic, every change in stance. He'd been about to diagnose the scientist to his left with Tourette's Syndrome when someone seemed to have figured out what he was doing.

The shock rippled up the back of his head, making his eyes blur for a second or two as the muscles in his neck went painfully rigid. It had been a lesser one this time. They didn't want to interrupt his running.

"Face forward," one of the guards snarled, and Don did as he was told, counting seconds instead of the wrinkles on his captors' faces. It had been twenty more minutes, probably about 45 altogether, when he started to think that he was in for the long haul.

Master Splinter's and Leo's training sessions had sometimes lasted this long, but there had never been such a cold or calculating atmosphere during those. It was like these people were waiting for something. He got his third wind, and they still didn't let him stop. He kept counting, but he lost count somewhere around 9,300.

More minutes passed, and his stride got sloppier. His felt like he was choking on air. Asking for the time seemed like a stupid decision if they could shock him for whatever reason they wanted, but it had to have been at least three hours, likely more than that.

His stumbling footsteps had gotten progressively worse, his muscles burning with lactic acid and his lungs about to quit when they finally slowed him to a walk. He was gasping, looking around to see if any of the three scientists would give him some water, but the only things they held were stopwatches, clipboards, and cellphones. Of course not. He almost felt stupid for expecting such a luxury.

"29.7," one of the scientists called out.

"319," another replied.

Don could only guess at what the numbers meant. Maybe '319' actually meant 3 hours and 19 minutes. That sounded fairly accurate. '29.7' on the other hand, was probably the distance. It was far too low for his heartrate, of course, but in kilometers, that might be right... He didn't know, though. Leo and Splinter had never made any of them run for that long. Practices usually had stretching, katas, sparring. Sometimes they'd do a little free running over the rooftops or through the sewers, but that only lasted an hour, never three.

Still, he supposed it was better than getting dissected. Honestly, this was fairly tame so far, but he didn't want to jinx himself by thinking that, so he shut the thought down.

29.7 kilometers. He had just run 75% of a marathon, and he knew he'd be able to feel it in the morning. He didn't think his mouth had ever felt so dry. They still had him walking at this point, so at least they knew in general what to do for someone who had just exerted themselves.

One of the guards threw a towel at him and he started to wipe his face off. He'd been sweating for three hours, and all he really wanted to do was take a shower, but he figured it would be too much to ask. The guard took the towel back all too soon as it was.

There was one thing that still bugged him, though. The 'doctors' from when he'd woken up the first time had mentioned something about doing some kind of mental experiment on him, while this test had been entirely physical. He supposed that they might just want to get an idea of his endurance for research purposes, but then again… It didn't match up, there was something still gnawing at the back of his brain.

The door to the training room opened behind him, and Don turned around on the treadmill to find that Kochanski had just entered.

"Excellent work, Don," he exclaimed, his smile disarmingly genuine. He had his hands clasped together out in front of him, not even trying to conceal his enthusiasm

Don was beginning to wish he'd given them a fake name, to be honest. The way this man handled his name like an old friend was getting creepy.

"Now, I hope the assistants didn't push you too hard, I've got a test for you myself."

Don almost scoffed at that, but years of having to walk on eggshells around Raph when he was ticked off had made him very good at keeping a straight face.

"What test?" he asked.

"Oh, just a quick little initiation ritual. I suppose you haven't had many friends before, but we're going to fix that!"

Friends… What did he mean by 'friends'? Don took a few cautious steps forward and off the treadmill when Kochanski beckoned for him to follow, even though he couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to regret whatever was to come.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you all for reading this far! I love you guys!_

 **PS, I still need a beta for this story! Please message me if you're interested!**


	4. Chapter 4:

**A/N:** _This chapter... This chapter. Leo kept running off with the story in this chapter. He's really good about telling me when I'm missing a bunch of stuff, so even though he's my least favorite turtle, I'm beginning to like him for his ability to keep things on track... Figures..._

 **Review Responses:**

I'm Nobody's Girlfriend:

 **"** I like it so far! Great job! I wonder what the man is going to do. :o"

 _To be honest, I'm curious as to what he's going to do too, considering I really don't know what it is yet... O.o I should get on that... Thanks for the review!_

 _Enjoy!_

 **Chapter 4:**

* * *

The trip back home was a solemn one, Raph brooding, muttering about who all he would butcher when they figured out who had taken Donnie, Mikey silent, which was foreboding in and of itself, and Leo with his head down, following his brothers. Normally he would choose to walk ahead, but today was different. He was lost in his own mind, trying to come up with some sort of plan.

He knew for a fact that they couldn't tell Leatherhead, at least not yet. It had only been a few months since they had found him in Bishop's lab, and he had yet to really learn to control himself. With how close Don had been to the alligator, Leo didn't want to risk his blind rage should he find out that Don had been taken, quite possibly by the same people who had hurt Leatherhead.

Leo glanced down at the shattered remains of the tranquilizer dart, the only real clue they had found. It was a long shot, but he was hoping that April could examine it and come up with a lead, no matter how shaky. Mikey had already called her, and she was supposed to arrive at the lair a few minutes after they would get home.

His brothers stopped in front of him, and only then did Leo realize that they were standing in front of the entrance to the lair. He was almost scared to walk through it, knowing that Master Splinter would be waiting for them, waiting to hear how he had failed to keep his little brother safe. Fear had never stopped him before, though, and Master Splinter was already standing there, a concerned, but knowing, look on his face.

Leo opened his mouth to speak, to explain that Don wouldn't be coming through the door behind him any time soon, but nothing came out. Instead, he held out his hands for his master to see, the tranquilizer dart in one and Don's shell-cell in the other.

"Sensei, this is all my fault!" Mikey started. "If I'd only gone to the surface with him-"

Master Splinter cut him off. "No, my son. Did your brother choose to go alone?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Mikey said.

"No 'buts'. Donatello made an unfortunate mistake, but blaming ourselves will not help him to correct it. Leonardo, have you begun to formulate a plan?"

Leo opened his mouth, then closed it, deciding to say something else. "We've called April. We'll need her help figuring out where the dart came from, if we can. We don't have any other leads."

"What do you mean you don't have any other leads?" A feminine voice sounded behind them. "And what's this about a dart? Did something happen? Mikey said it was urgent-"

Leo turned to greet her. "April, we're glad you're here." He took a deep breath before letting the next sentence spill out. "Don… Don's been taken."

April's eyes widened and she looked around the lair, as if expecting to see Donatello walking out of his lab to prove Leo wrong, but there was no such luck. She couldn't speak for a few moments, but eventually she was able to find something to say. "Taken… Taken by who?"

"We don't know. This was all we found." He said, holding up the dart and shell-cell again. "He went for a walk alone in Central Park, and now he's gone…"

"I'd bet my sais it was Bishop." Raph growled. "This has his name written all over it."

"We don't know for sure, Raph. April, we were hoping you might be able to analyze the dart, maybe get a manufacturer, a list of buyers. Do you think you can do that?"

April heaved a sigh, her eyes brimming with tears. "I can try." She swiped her wrist over her face nodded. "Yeah, if you still have Donnie's laptop, I might be able to hack into the files we need. I'll need to figure out the serial number on the dart though…" She took it from him gingerly, as if handling it too roughly could erase any clues.

"Thank you, April." Splinter added. "It is good to have help from a friend in our time of need. My sons, while April works on this, none of you are allowed on the surface unless you are escorting Ms. O'Neil home. I cannot risk any of you being stolen from me as Donatello has been. April, I must insist that you exercise caution as well."

"Of course, Master Splinter," April said.

Michelangelo and Leonardo both nodded. Raphael, on the other hand, did not seem so eager to obey.

"But sensei, we have to start looking for him! It could be the Purple Dragons or the Foot who have taken him, or even Bishop! If we could just-"

"No, Raphael. I know you are eager to search for your brother, but we must be patient."

"But I-"

"You are to stay here in the lair, and that is final!"

Raph clenched his jaw, but said no more. He stalked off to the dojo.

Leo sighed as he watched him go, knowing that there would be plenty more arguing to come. "I'll go get Don's laptop…"

* * *

 _Water dripped from the ceiling, pooling on the worn brick at Leo's feet. He was looking for something, but no matter what pile of debris he searched under, he couldn't find it. And he couldn't even remember what 'it' was, just that there was something missing. Something important._

 _He dropped to his knees, shoving a chunk of a brick wall out of the way and feeling underneath it. His hands came out of the grime coated in some sticky red substance, and although he knew he should be concerned, maybe even alarmed by that, he wasn't. He should feel something, shouldn't he? At least something? And he should know what was missing, what the shell he was looking for._

 _"LEO!"_

 _The yell shattered his frustrated thoughts. Logic and emotion crashed into each other, leaving him completely dumbfounded until sudden clarity rose out of the ashes like a Phoenix. His brother. He was missing his brother,_ Donnie _, and that was_ Donnie's _voice. His little brother needed him, and he was just standing here like it didn't even matter._

 _He whirled so quickly he nearly ran into the wall next to him as he pelted through the maze that the sewers had become._

 _"LEO!" The shout came again, the end of his name edged out by the most piercing scream he had ever heard his brother make. He had never felt his heart drop so quickly as it did in that moment._

 _He had one purpose, and that was to make it through this damn maze and help his brother before whatever it was finished him for good. He rounded corner after corner, stumbling into dead ends and spinning around in the sludge before scrambling back the way he had come._

 _Don's screams for help echoed around him, pressing in on all sides, and it was all Leo could do not to drop to his knees with his hands over his ears. He kept running, sometimes falling, but clambering to his feet again without skipping a beat._

 _There. He nearly ran right past it, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed his brother and ground to a halt._

 _Don was on his knees, looking up at him with so much fear, so much pain. And there was blame in his eyes, too. He had some kind of collar around his neck, wires snaking from it and looping around his wrists and ankles before trailing off behind him into the darkness._

 _The air around them hummed, and the collar lit up with electricity, strikes of blue streaming along the wires as his little brother screamed._

 _Leo's hands were already on the collar, searching for a way to get the wretched thing off. Oddly enough, all he felt was a faintly thrumming current when his fingers touched it. He tried to yank the collar off with brute strength, and when that didn't work, he looked closer, trying to find the mechanism that would open it. He could hear someone choking, but he kept on, prying at the device with his thumbs. The choking got louder, but he had to get this stupid thing off, had to help in any way he could._

 _The sparks grew dimmer, easing away like an ocean tide. He had to be fast and get the collar off, before his brother was shocked again. He could still hear Don gasping, retching from the pain, and he looked up for a second to make sure it hadn't gotten any worse._

 _Leo's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. His tunnel vision on the collar faded, and he realized that Don wasn't retching from the pain at all. He had been tugging on the collar all this time, unknowingly choking his own brother when he had only been trying to help. Leo pulled his hands away, and the collar's grip slackened, but Don didn't take the sudden gasp of air Leo had been expecting._

 _Instead, he continued to suffocate, choking out words that Leo couldn't decipher, staring at him with panic that only seemed to grow. Don's eyes plead for release, but Leo could think of nothing to help. He had let go, so why wasn't Don breathing normally again? His brother's voice flickered in his memory, telling him that it only took seven pounds of pressure to collapse someone's windpipe, and Leo's own breath got faster as he realized that this was what he must have done._

 _He raised a hand to his brother's neck, but pulled away before he could inflict any more damage than he already had. He could only pray for a miracle, but his prayers were obviously ignored when Don's eyes fluttered shut, his body slumping against Leo's._

 _"No. No no no no. Come on, Donnie. Donnie, stay with me!" he pleaded, but his brother did not respond. Leo listened, his head against Don's chest, his own heart thudding out a brisk staccato when he couldn't hear anything, because_ Don's _heart had stopped beating. It was all he could do not to try to shake him awake again, and he begged for forgiveness even though he knew it would be of no use. "I'm sorry! Please, I… I'm so sorry, I didn't know!" Leo was losing his breath himself, his stomach aching with its sudden load of guilt. "Come on, wake up, Donnie, please! Please, wake up… Don't leave me…"_

* * *

Leo's transition from his dreams to conscious thought was uneventful. There was no sitting bolt-upright in bed, no panic at the way his sheets were wrapped tightly around him. All he did was open his eyes and wipe the brimming salt water away before it could soak into his mask. He was in control of what he believed now. The truth soothed his guilt-laden spirit like a balm, but it could only heal so much. Although he hadn't killed his own brother by accident, Don was still missing, and had been for three days now, and April had yet to call them with any news on the dart they'd found.

The iron weight in his stomach had refused to budge in all that time, and he honestly couldn't remember when he had last eaten anything without pushing the plate away and asking to be excused. Mikey, on the other hand…

"Leo!"

He let out a long sigh, got up, and walked into the living room, trying to ignore the way his nightmare clung to his soul like a cobweb.

"Yeah Mikey, I'm up. What do you need?" His voice was a haggard monotone, but it was all he could muster at the time.

"There's no food in the pantry!" They'd figured out the first day Don had gone missing that Mikey was a stress eater. They'd known it before, of course, but they hadn't realized just how bad it could get.

"Mikey, you've got to stop _eating_ all of that junk." He hardly sounded like a leader anymore. Honestly, he was beginning to feel more like a deflated balloon, but he refused to feel sorry for himself. Don was still out there, and if he should feel sorry for anyone, it was Don.

"I'm sorry, Leo, I just… I have to, I'm starving!"

He wanted to correct his brother, to say that he was worried and scared rather than hungry, but he couldn't find it in him to say it, so he said something else. "Where's Raph?"

"Dojo," Mikey said, shoving a Cheeto-dusted-hand back into the last bag of chips.

Leo looked at him for a second, trying to gauge how much weight he had gained, before shaking his head and moving on.

As he got closer to the dojo, the silence of the lair resonated around him. He couldn't hear any crashes, indicators that Raph was beating up yet another punching bag. Perhaps he was meditating. Leo rolled his eyes at himself. Since when did Raph willingly meditate outside of their training?

"Raph, are you in there?" There was no response. The dojo looked just as neat and tidy (and empty) as he had left it before he'd gone to bed. There were no drops of sweat on the floor in front of the punching bag, and none of the practice dummies was bleeding cotton stuffing onto the floor, normally a telltale sign that Raph had taken his anger out on one or more of them. No one had set foot in here, as far as Leo could tell, and he could feel the weight settle further in his stomach, pulling his shoulders down with it.

He narrowed his eyes, turning around and walking back to Mikey, who was sprawled on the couch dumping the last few crumbs out of the bag and into his mouth.

"Uh, Mikey? Raph's not in the dojo."

Mikey shrugged, tossing the bag onto the floor at his feet with two empty bags of pretzels and an empty can of Pringles. Leo closed his eyes, doing his best not to allow the mess to bother him so he could focus on what mattered. "Mikey, he's not in the dojo, where else would he be?"

Another nonchalant response, but this one at least had words attached to it. "I don't know, probably brooding somewhere. Do I look like his keeper?"

He opened his mouth to speak, to reprimand his youngest brother for acting so casual about everything when Raph could be missing just like _Donnie_ for all he knows, but… He's getting ahead of himself… He hasn't searched the lair yet, and Raphael could just be brooding in his room, just like Mikey says.

Leo turned on his heel and walked as calmly as he could toward Raph's door, trying to ignore the empty room that passed by on his right: Don's. The door was still slightly ajar, and there was still a light on at his desk. No one had had the heart to walk in and turn it off for fear that the symbolism would be enough to ruin their chances of finding Don.

 _"LEO!"_

He clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the memory of his genius brother's voice shouting for his help. He didn't realize it when he started jogging toward Raph's room rather than walking, shoving the door open and praying that Raph would be there and ready to murder him for barging in like that.

Raph's room was empty too.

He stood there for a second, almost as if he expected his second-in-command to jump out and scare him, but Raph would never play pranks like that, he knew that. So he headed for the only bathroom in the lair, and when he found that empty too, he checked elsewhere. He pulled out his shell cell, pressing the red button as he cast about for the turtle with the equally red mask. Raph's voicemail played, and Leo could feel a sickening sense of déjà vu wash over him.

"Raph, this better not be some kind of sick joke!"

Master Splinter wasn't oblivious to the sudden tension in the lair, and had stepped out of his own quarters to watch with both confusion and concern as his oldest tore through the lair room by room. Leo reached the kitchen, then went sprinting back to his brother, who was still lying on the couch.

"Raph's not in the lair, Mikey. He's _gone_."

"What do you mean he's-"

"I've searched the entire lair, Mikey, and he's not answering his cell! Now quit stuffing your face _,_ get off your fat butt _,_ and _help me find him!"_

"Enough!"

Leo bit back the rest of his anger at the sound of his sensei's voice. Fire was replaced by the cold acid of guilt when he saw the hurt in Mikey's eyes, and for a second he thought it was Don in front of him again, gasping for breath because Leo had unknowingly cut off his air supply.

The world glitched back to reality when Master Splinter continued. "You will apologize to your brother immediately, Leonardo, and only then will you both go and search for Raphael."

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but his apology dried up in his throat as he Mikey's expression shifted from one of shock to utter contempt. He drew in another choking breath, the pit in his stomach growing deeper, and tried again. "Mikey, I- I'm sorry…

"Save it, Leo," the youngest snapped. He grabbed his nunchuks from the coffee table and pushed past his brother. Leo reached after him, trying to gain control of the situation again, but it was beyond saving.

"Fine…" Master Splinter held his katana blades out to him, and he took hold of them hesitantly, no longer certain of his right to wield them. "Lets… Let's go find Raph…"

* * *

 **A/N:** _Wow, that turned out better than I thought... I'd like to thank Rusty, from tumblr, for helping me realize that I was missing an entire fricken scene. (that last one, if you hadn't realized it) Yeah, you can thank them for that last bit of angsty goodness!_

 _I LOVE YOU ALL! Thank you for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _Gosh, I'm so sorry for just disappearing! I tend to do that *rubs back of neck sheepishly*. Wow, summer's gone by fast, and you guys didn't get, like, any updates! I'm a horrible person, I know… And I'm terribly, terribly sorry! Summer always seems to be the worst time to write stories for me because I just get so lazy and unmotivated, but now that school's almost back (and my third year of college, ugh) let's hope I'll procrastinate on homework by writing this! Honestly, that's usually how I write most of my stuff…_

 _Anyway, you're probably raring to read the next chapter! This one's shorter than I expected it, and I had quite a few issues with it. In the end, I sort of cut off a good portion of it to save for the next chapter. You've been waiting too long as it is!_

 _For the record, I've only had one person beta this, and that person wasn't my usual beta, but she is a good friend of mine, so I'd like to thank Liz-a-FREEND for helping me with this chapter! Love ya Liz! :D_

 **Review responses for those whom I didn't respond to via PM:**

I Love Kittens too:

"Good chapter and I hope they find Raph.  
Update soon."

 _Ahh, thank you! I'm glad you liked it! And I'm sorry, I did not update soon as you requested O.o_

ss:

"hope leo gets his shell handed to him he needs to learn hes not perfect and just cause his splinters favorite doesn't mean jack in the real world"

 _Yeah, Leo's got some things to learn, but honestly they all have a lot to learn! Thanks for the review! I know I've written a good chapter when you guys are mad at the characters rather than at me XD_

 **Chapter 5: (FINALLY)**

* * *

His legs felt like two columns of sewer sludge as he stumbled after Dr. Kochanski. He felt as if he were walking on a swaying boat, and the second he crossed the threshold into the hallway, a high pitched whirring scratched at his eardrums. It was just at the edge of his hearing range in both frequency and amplitude, and the lighting suddenly seemed different too. Maybe just a strange type of fluorescent bulb they were using in the hallway, and he could certainly ignore it altogether if he focused on something else… Like memorizing the layout of the building.

Don swept his eyes over the corridor, noting with a small amount of surprise that the guards were all walking in front of him rather than in formation around him. That was odd… Wouldn't they miss it if he happened to slip away? He almost wanted to try it: surely they were just overconfident in their ability to control him. But what if that confidence wasn't misplaced? He'd be dead if he lost that bet… No, better to wait it out and see. Or maybe he could speed up the process a little.

Another glance around the hallway, more obvious this time, and he slowed down just barely as he walked, mouthing his observations to himself. It only lasted about eight seconds before one of the guards whipped around to face him, one hand held up to his other wrist in plain view.

"Keep your head down!" he commanded, and Don wasted no time in pulling his gaze down to the floor, hoping to sidestep any more jolting penance for his disobedience.

There were cameras watching him from every angle. That had to be it, although he hadn't noticed any. Cameras, and someone actually watching those cameras. Security was a bit tighter than he'd expected, then…

Although he kept his head down, counting the tiles in the floor to keep track of how long the hallway was, he couldn't help but notice as they passed through two different checkpoints, each policed by two more guards. It would be a difficult place to break out of, even with his training as a ninja. For now, he would just have to have faith that his brothers would come for him, and in the meantime, he would try to focus on just what these scientists intended to do with him. He remembered they'd said something about a mental experiment, but the arduous test he'd just been put through wasn't a mental one at all. There was still sweat dripping down his face, collecting uncomfortably in the hollow between his neck and his shell, but at least he could breathe again. His lungs still ached for air, but he knew from experience that it wouldn't last too much longer.

The thing he was more concerned about at the moment was his need for water. Marathon runners were always given plenty of fluids before, during, and after the event, and he hadn't been allowed _anything_ yet. Now that he thought about it, there was a strange buzzing at the back of his head, and the grout in the tiles was starting to look almost blurry. As they continued to walk, he nearly lost his balance, tilting just a little too far to the right. All symptoms of dehydration, he realized. If they didn't give him something soon, he was certain he would faint. No, he didn't have time to think about this, he had to figure out what these people were planning!

Don wracked his brain, trying to think of a way that running a marathon could tie into his mental state… Endorphin levels maybe? But couldn't any legitimate scientific group study that fairly easily, and hadn't they already done so? Besides, with all the security, this facility couldn't be anything but top secret, and there was no way they would put in the effort to capture a mutant for an experiment so inane. He almost wanted to laugh out loud for even thinking it, but at the same time, he had to bite back a growl of frustration. He just didn't know, and Donatello was not a turtle who could deal with not knowing. He also wasn't afraid of much, but this was more than enough to make him nervous.

He had never really studied psychology all that much, preferring more concrete sciences like physics, for example. He was beginning to regret that now. All he had ever been able to do with his knowledge of psychology was unofficially diagnose Mikey with ADHD, and that certainly wouldn't be helpful here. For all his intellect, he was absolutely _useless_ in this situation, and it stung his pride more than he would have thought possible.

He could feel his anxiety rising up to swallow his frustration in the span of a single second. He had no idea how altered his mental state would be once his brothers were able to rescue him, and no idea how easy it would be to pull him back from if there was nothing left of his mind to be salvaged? A pins and needles sensation traveled up his fingers, and he curled them into shaking fists.

Don shook his head, pushing the thoughts away like a plate of Mikey's black liquorice, tuna, and hot sauce pizza. It would do no good to panic right now; he had to focus on whatever this initiation ritual was.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he caught the scent of chlorine wafting through air that seemed almost humid. The thick scent pulled at his memory, dragging him back to a fight on a rooftop that had ended with Raphael and a Foot soldier falling through a glass skylight and into a swimming pool directly below.

Surely they weren't expecting him to swim? After running the lion's share of a marathon? Maybe they just had to walk _past_ the pool or something…

The entire group stopped outside a set of double doors, just where the chlorine smell was strongest. _Turtle luck, running true to form_ , he thought to himself, realizing that the voice in his head suddenly sounded like Raph.

One of the guards turned and handed him a water bottle. He stared at it for a few moments trying to figure out if it was safe to drink, then threw caution to the wind and drained the bottle in one go.

Dr. Kochanski smiled yet another artless smile. "If you're that thirsty, we can get you some more, Don."

Donatello stared down at the empty plastic bottle in his hands then back up at the doctor, not sure whether he was allowed to speak. He nodded instead, realizing that he had forgotten to even smell the water for foreign contaminants in his haste to get the feel of cotton out of his mouth.

Inwardly, he was kicking himself. He hadn't even run a full marathon and his discipline had gone out the window. His father's disappointment weighed down on him like a backpack full of rocks. Splinter had taught them to be wary of their enemies, and here he had taken water from them without a moment's hesitation. Some ninja he was, but... Would Splinter rather he obey the scientists, or pass out from dehydration? Both of those options seemed horrible, but Don couldn't seem to think straight, at least until he remembered that confusion was yet another symptom of dehydration. Maybe... maybe water really was a good idea right now, regardless of what was in it.

The second bottle of water was not guzzled as the first had been, and although it had nothing suspicious about it, there was no way to be sure that they hadn't laced the first with anything.

Dr. Kochanski cleared his throat as Don finished. "You're about to meet some of the other experiments, Don. If all goes well, one or two of them may end up as your roommates. Now, do you remember the rules?"

He nodded, but that wasn't enough.

"Recite them, please."

Don didn't hesitate. "Don't mention where I came from and pretend that I've always lived and like living here. Don't attack or resist the personnel, and do what they say. Don't talk about being an experiment and don't tell the others that they are experiments. Don't attempt to escape or encourage others to escape. No cultural references."

The doctor nodded. "And the last one?"

He sighed and continued. "I am being monitored at all times. Failure to comply with the first five rules will result in my termination along with the execution of my family." _If you can catch them,_ he added to himself as he held back a smirk.

"Excellent! See, I told you this one was smart!"

Don suddenly felt more like some kind of show dog than an individual with free will, but he forced back his revulsion, his indignance, and kept a straight face as the guards opened the doors to the natatorium.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Maybe something more sinister looking, but it was just a normal indoor pool. There was even a set of bleachers on one side, like he'd seen on TV during those live-action Disney movies that Mikey watched sometimes. Sitting on those bleachers was the most hodgepodge group of humans... Or at least he thought they were humans... That Don had ever seen. Two of them had fur like Master Splinter, and one of them almost looked like it had scales.

Dr. Kochanski led him to stand in front of the group, looking around with a slightly puzzled expression. "Ari is probably washing his hands..." he mumbled, before shrugging and motioning to Don." This will be your new member, hybrids!"

Their eyes turned to him, and the urge to run away, to blend into the shadows and flee, was almost physically tangible. There had been people watching him since he had been taken to this place, but for some reason, the instinct to stay in the darkness where no one could look at him only flared up now, in front of these mutants who would, in the real world, be just as out of place as he was. It made absolutely no sense.

Don gulped, trying not to let his pounding heart block out the doctor's introduction.

"This is Nickolai, 2 percent komodo dragon," he said, motioning to a hybrid with dark grey, scaly skin. Nickolai gave him more of a snarl than a welcome, and the doctor moved on.

"That's Cedric, 2 percent civet." This one actually smiled back, showing off canines that made him almost look like a vampire. Although he lacked fur, his skin was spotted, a darker band running across his face and over his eyes like the mask of a raccoon.

"This here is Lark," Dr. Kochanski directed Don's gaze to a female hybrid whose skin had an almost greenish hue, as well as a beak that was almost similar to his own. "3 percent alligator snapping turtle." The expression on Lark's face was one of disgust.

"Over here we have Bruno, 13 percent ox..." Don's eyes widened as he got a better look at a creature so similar to a Minotaur he was having trouble discerning the difference. The only things missing were the hooves. He looked away quickly when he recognized the anger on the hybrid's face.

"And lastly, this is Megan, 1.5 percent Great Blue Heron." She smiled at him, almost reminding him of April for a moment. Her hair was grey, and on further inspection, he realized that it was actually comprised of long, thin feathers rather than normal human hair.

He gave a faint smile back, wondering if it would be smart to bow to them, just as Splinter had taught them to handle introductions, and as he was contemplating the consequences of such a bow, he realized with a jolt that he was standing in front of five viable animal-human hybrids. Despite the fact that he himself was one, Don hadn't anticipated that anyone on earth had perfected this kind of technology yet, but here they were in front of him. Being a scientist himself, he couldn't help but be awed by their very existence. There was something wrong, though. Dr. Kochanski had forgotten one...

He looked over at the last hybrid, what looked like a humanoid rat much like Master Splinter, save that this one had reddish brown fur rather than grey.

Dr. Kochanski followed Don's gaze and quickly spoke up. "That one's Taz, but I wouldn't expect much from him. He's not human enough to speak, roughly 23 percent harvest mouse."

Don's previous fascination with their advances in genetics was quickly smothered by anger and disgust. He had forotten for a moment the sacrifices that often had to be made for the sake of science, and regardless of whether he was one of those sacrifices, regardless of what these people's intentions were, this was wrong.

Taz didn't even perk up at the sound of his name, and he'd een staring off into space for God knew how long.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Well, we had better get started if we want to be finished in time for lunch!" I chose the pool this time to give Don a bit of an advantage considering he's just taken a stamina and endurance test."

Don caught sight of Megan making a face, probably at the mention of the test due to her more stocky build. She wasn't fat necessarily, but Don could tell she probaby disliked physical activity. It also didn't escape his notice that Bruno was standing up, cracking his knuckles with a grin. It was a struggle to keep his eyes from widening as he realized just how big the hybrid was, 6'6'' and almost powerful enough to give Leatherhead a run for his money in brute force.

Bruno stripped off his t-shirt, and it was then that Don recognized that he was wearing trunks rather than regular pants. Now that he thought of it, _all_ of the hybrids were wearing t-shirts and either shorts or pants. He was the only one that wasn't wearing anything, and although he had never had a problem with the way he and his brothers didn't wear clothes except for their gear, he couldn't help but feel self-conscious in front of the hybrids.

"For this group, the initiation ritual usually involves some sort of match against Bruno as a kind of... test… of the abilities you have as a hybrid. You can go ahead and take off your elbow and knee pads along with your belt and bandana if you like, Don."

So they were going to make him swim after all, and it was going to be a competition. He sighed, pulling off his pads and his belt. He hesitated with the knot on his bandana, wondering if leaving it on would reveal just how important it was to him, before taking that off, too. Honestly, he was surprised they had let him keep it for so long, but in the end, if he needed to be fast in the water, it would be helpful not to have anything drag behind him.

"All right, first hybrid to surrender will, of course, lose the match. You may begin when I blow the whistle."

Wait, what? They wanted him to _fight_? Don spared a glance at his opponent, realizing that the hybrid probably weighed at least twice as much as he did. This... this was not good. He was going to have to fight an enormous ox hybrid without his weapon, in a swimming pool after running a marathon, having eaten nothing since... Since... Honestly, he didn't know how long it had been. He had been unconscious most of the time.

The sound of a whistle nagged at his swirling thoughts, doubling the beat of his heart when he realized that Bruno was headed straight for him. _Oh shell_ , he thought, hardly getting a chance to brace himself before he was tackled into the pool.

* * *

"Guys, I think I saw somethin'! Disappeared down that alley over there."

Raph sunk deeper into the shadows behind the dumpster, doing his best to melt into them completely.

 _Bad idea,_ he chided himself, _really bad idea... Shoulda told somebody where I was going, maybe asked someone to come with._ No point dwelling on that part now, though. His shell cell had been crushed beneath him when Hun had tried to pin him to the floor, and he still had Purple Dragons tailing him, not to mention the alley he was cornered in had no roof or sewer access. The way everything was spinning, he was fairly certain he'd earned himself a concussion, too...

It would be tough to get out of this one, but he had already made it through a tougher scrape: getting out of the warehouse in one piece. Now he just had to _stay_ in one piece, make it home before anyone woke up and say he'd fallen over the railing of the second level while sleepwalking or something. Leo was going to kill him if he found out, he was certain of it.

 _Fourteen of 'em. Sheesh, how did_ I _get so lucky..._

Hiding wasn't going to work with these guys, he could sense it. Not while he was stumbling around like a drunk, anyway. They would hear every step he took, and there was no way they would overlook him back here, even as stupid as they all were. He glanced down at the blood oozing sluggishly from the gash that ran at least five inches along the back of his knee and down the inner side of his calf. He didn't know how much blood he'd lost already, but he figured it had to be more than just a little. Shell, he couldn't wait to get home and just let Don patch him u-...

 _Don's not home, moron,_ he growled inwardly. _The Purple Dragons didn't even know he was missing._

They knew now, though. Raph had made sure of that, sneaking into their lair and demanding answers from Hun himself. Obviously that little confrontation hadn't ended well.

They were only three feet away from his hiding spot now, no way they'd overlook him if they turned around. He still had the element of surprise on his side, so long as he acted first...

The Dragon closest to the dumpster never saw what hit him.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I love all of you! Thanks for sticking with me even when I fail to update!_


End file.
